Chameleon 3

The couple and the boy sat silently examining each other. Amelia especially, Chris felt her piercing gaze predatory, birdlike, a blackbird he thought feeling a little uncomfortable and beginning to squirm under her close scrutiny. John on the other hand was more relaxed, distant, a lion thought Chris, a lion seemingly asleep under a tree but really surveying the African plain below, watching his prey. Chris liked animals and always compared people to them. But actually rather smug. Adults he concluded. John broke the silence " I am sorry, would you like a drink ? something to eat as well, perhaps ? " don't say growing boy, please thought Chris. He didn't " Just a hot chocolate please " replied Chris and John got up and went to the counter. There was quite a queue now and it had started to rain, the windows were steaming up. " Well Chris " said Amy, " we know all about you of course but do you have any questions ? anything, just ask away " He had hundreds, thousands of course, but they were all hiding at the moment so he had to think. As he did so he noticed Amy's eyes gradually slide away to look at something behind him. This was always happening, if he didn't actually move or speak then people just didn't notice him, it was as if he just faded into the background. And he was convinced it wasn't just him, why did people just ignore teenagers ? We do exist, you know.
" Errrm, where do you live ? " mumbled Chris. Amy's eyes swung back. " live ? Oh close by, we have a lovely flat in the New Town, top floor, you can see all the way over to Fife and the Forth bridges, if you stand at the window and sort of squint sideways that is, you'll see it soon. " Chris's face must have spoken by itself then because she continued more slowly " George and Maureen did tell you didn't they ? " , "I mean that you are coming to live with us for the holidays " Mum and dad had said nothing at all, Chris just looked at her. " Ah " she said "never mind, we will explain everything soon. " Three cups descended onto the table as John shuffled back into his seat. Amy, looking at John gave an almost imperceptable nod and smiled. Chris noticed though. The holidays, he thought, " My stuff, have you . . ." All arranged said Amy. " Yes George is dropping everything off this afternoon" cut in John, " On their way up north". Up North, Elgin of course, things suddenly made sense. Every year Chris had to leave his friends and accompany his parents on yet another boring trip to his aunt in Elgin. Two weeks of nothing, no playstation, no broadband, no sky telly. Just endless walking in the cold rain, boiled vegetables, and Take the High Road on the telly. No wonder he was always top in English, he read that many books. Why they couldn't go to Spain like all of his friends he never knew. Forgetting all about the strangeness of the situation Chris stopped playing with his empty mug and smiled gently to himself. Things were looking up. Of course his mum and dad would never let him stay at home by himself but now he had birth parents. It wasn't Spain, but he could see his friends and he was right in the middle of town where the action was. Watching this reaction closely, John reached out and squeezed Amy's hand gently, just once and let go.

Chameleon 2

Starbucks was packed, but Chris spotted them straight away. Far window table like they had said, black business suits, white shirts, older, grey haired. The woman, Amelia was facing his way but deep in conversation with the man, John. Amelia, John, his real parents. Chris pushed and squeezed his way between the tables towards them. " sorry ", " scuse me, sorry " but no one really noticed him. As he approached the table he began to hear their conversation. " about time too " Amelia was saying insistently " only one other contact so far, I am beginning to lose faith in this whole thing ". Stopping beside the table, Chris suddenly had no idea what to say, but Amelia looked up at him, so he smiled down at her. " Ah yes, " she said quickly, " a single expresso, that was it wasn't it John ? and a tall skinny latte please " and just as quickly began to resume talking to her companion " so what do you think about the project John ? I mean with no contacts, how can there be any future ?" " errrrm" Chris started to say quietly but John spoke over him, a deeper measured tone "I think you forget this is Starbucks, Amy" , " no waiters " and turning towards Chris, smiled and said " You must be Chris ". Amy suddenly looked up at him then back at John " chameleon " she said under her breath. At least that is what he thought she said, but as he glanced her way she just smiled slowly. " I am John, " said John holding his hand out to shake, a firm confident grip in comparison to Chris's sweaty nervousness. " And this, of course is Amelia " he continued, nodding towards Chris's new mother. "Please be seated" Shaking Amy's hand Chris sat in the chair opposite them as they gazed intently at him. Please be seated ? he thought, this is like careers at school, are they going to interview me, interview their own son ? A new thought occured to him or are they not my parents? some sort of intermediary perhaps? he had read about this sort of thing. " errrm . . . who ? sorry, I mean are you . . . ?" "Your parents ?" replied John quickly, efficiently " But of course we are." " And we have been expecting your call for a while now, everything is ready."

Chris had indeed read about this. As soon as he discovered he was adopted he had gone onto the internet to find out how it worked, how he could find out about his real parents. This was how it happened, as soon as you were old enough your parents, your adoptive parents that is, sat down and talked to you, told you. Then with a case worker you were allowed to find out who your real parents were, and then write to them. If they replied you could write again and when the time was right, perhaps talk on the phone. If things went well you could then all meet with your caseworker there, at her office perhaps or in a public place. And on it went from there. Well it had started properly, his parents had sat down with him, " We think you are old enough to know the truth, Chris", "we'll always love you" etc etc, blah de, blah, "the time has come, as we always knew it would "so far, as expected but then . . . " And so we have contacted your real parents and arranged a meeting " A meeting, just like that, no caseworker, no letters, no conversations on the phone. And here he was now, sitting in a cafe in the middle of town on a Monday afternoon with two weird strangers who were now his parents.

And everything was ready.

Onion, Thyme and Brie Pizza

Monday 1.30pm

At home today with the youngest who has chickenpox. He is rather subdued and happily watching the telly, while I decide on lunch - pizza I think. Breadmaker is filled up to make some dough, nothing special, just surebake yeast, strong flour, salt and sugar. Youngest just wants cheese on his - cheese on toast really. But for Nicola and myself ? Caramelised onions sounds good, like a Nigel Slater recipe for a tart with puff pastry but as a pizza. Three onions are cut into big chunks and gently, very gently, fried in oil and a big slice of butter for at least half an hour until translucent, brown and sticky. Even with the extractor on the whole house smells of onions now, good job it is sunny and I can open all the doors and windows. Meanwhile an email is fired off to Nicola to pick up some Brie on her way home. Slow cooking seems to be a theme with me at the moment, anything that can be put on to cook and left while I read a book . I must be feeling relaxed, the spring weather certainly helps. When Nicola arrives home the cheese on toast has been scoffed by small child and myself (and almost Rana the cat!), so the oven is hot and the second pizza is rolled out ready. On go the onions along with the oniony butter, then some slices of Brie and a small handfull of Thyme leaves from the garden, salt and pepper. Italian onion sandwich really but sweet, creamy and delicious.